The Destroyer of Worlds Read online

  Srak put a hand on her back and gently but firmly guided her away. “See you then, Hanson,” he said. Then, lowering his voice to talk to Yilva, “It's by St Paul's. They also serve Petaur drinks here ...”

  When they were gone, Hanson led Moore, Agatha, and Vyren onwards. The Tethyan's little globe of water moved uncannily silently and smoothly a couple of feet off the ground.

  “You know where we're going?” said Hanson.

  “Hammersmith Hospital,” replied Vyren.

  “Good.”

  They descended a ramp to the tube, attracting more than a few stares. Aliens in general were a common sight at spaceports. Tethyans, less so.

  “It's good to have you with us at last,” said Hanson. “Why the delay?”

  “It took some time to find an individual who was both an expert on humans and willing to serve in their command structure.”

  “I … see.” said Hanson.

  Agatha sniggered. “That was a top bit of snark. I like this guy.”

  Vyren's tentacles twisted back and forth. “I did not intend offense,” he said. “Merely that … We are not used to your social structures and forms of command hierarchy.”

  “I'm sure we'll fix that soon enough,” said Hanson. “Now come on, let's get to the hospital.”

  Chapter 5: Emily

  Hanson strode through the stark white corridors of the hospital after Admiral Chang. The Admiral led them all into a small observation room. A couple of computer terminals let out steady chimes.

  A broad one-way window covered one wall. Chang looked at Hanson and nodded towards it. Hanson stepped up to the window and looked through.

  On the other side was a nicely-outfitted room. A bed, a table covered in scattered papers. A few pieces of medical equipment. A girl, not more than six or seven, lay on her front in the middle of the room, apparently occupied in drawing something on a tablet. Black monitoring bands covered her head and wrist.

  Hanson looked back at Chang. “This is our lead?”

  Chang nodded.

  “Who is she?”

  “Emily Dawes,” said Chang. “Niece of Millicent Dawes.”

  “Millicent Dawes … An employee of IL?”

  “Yes. Emily's parents died three years ago. Reactor overload on a cruise ship. The same overload landed Emily in hospital. Cascading ribosome failure.”

  Hanson searched his memory. Yes, CRF. The earliest human genetic modifications, well over two hundred years ago by this point, had been primitive and ugly affairs. Some appeared fine at first, and were passed on from parent to child over the generations. But the modifications were actually unstable, and given the right push – from the right mix of radiation, say – would begin to collapse. Like dominos. And that was the problem: You could fix any problem, but there'd always be another one about to happen. The condition never cleared itself up.

  “Any other relatives?” Hanson asked.

  “Not that we know of,” said Chang. “Millicent is her next of kin. We set up a watch on the hospital as soon as we figured out the connection.” He paused to watch again. “There's a large trust set up, so a trained medical team can take her out on day trips every month.”

  “And I'm guessing this trust was paid for by IL,” said Hanson.

  “Yes. But they've set it up to run on its own. Half a million credits – enough to last for ten years or so. We could seize it as part of the investigation, but there's only one person we'd be hurting by doing that.” Chang gestured at Emily.

  “In that case,” said Hanson, “our only chance is that she might know something that could help us.”

  “You're free to go in and talk to her.”

  “I don't know if we're the right team for that,” said Hanson. “The last thing the girl needs is to be interrogated by some gruff Alliance Navy captain with diplomats and mercenaries in tow.”

  At that moment, the door to Emily's room opened, and Agatha stepped inside.

  Surprised, Hanson swung round. Moore and Vyren seemed as surprised as he was – she must have slipped out during his conversation with Chang.

  He could have had her pulled out. She certainty wasn't meant to be in there. But something made him stop.

  Hanson watched as Agatha stepped up to Emily, then waved as the girl looked at her. She said something – Hanson couldn't hear because the audio was off – and Emily said something in return. Agatha squatted down beside her and pointed at something on the tablet. Emily looked up at her with a smile and seemed to be explaining something.

  “Now there's something I never thought I'd see,” murmured Moore.

  Agatha and Emily were laughing about something. After a moment, Agatha looked up and waved at the window.

  Chapter 6: Mars

  Lanik brought his shuttle to a halt over the great domes of Robinson City, and began to descend into the adjacent spaceport. Just behind the domes, the gigantic cable of a space elevator rose up and up until it vanished into the dusty red sky.

  His shuttle settled into its berth. Above him, a set of doors swung shut, and there was a hiss as the atmosphere depressurised. As soon as it was finished, he left the shuttle.

  The SIS headquarters had a front of polished black stone with deep-set oval windows. At the front desk, Lanik showed his identification, had his fingerprints tested, looked into a retinal scanner, waited for a DNA scan, and was finally shown inside. A man in a smooth black uniform showed him down a corridor to a comfortably-outfitted room.

  Settled back in a chair, Operative Amina Serafin looked up at him and nodded curtly. “Hello, Commander.”

  “Operative,” Lanik said as a greeting, and settled opposite her. “What can I do for you?”

  Serafin smiled at him. It wasn't a big smile. That wasn't her style. But it was genuine. “I have some information for you,” she said.

  From her pocket, she produced a contracted tablet, gestured at it to extend to a small square, then handed it to Lanik.

  “That piece of Ancient technology you found,” she said. “It spoke to me.”

  Lanik's attention fell away from the tablet immediately. “Excuse me?” he said.

  “It spoke to me. When I came close to it, it began to give off a repeated sequence of pulsed microwave radiation. We ran the sequence through that Ancient translation key your friend Yilva gave us.”

  Lanik looked over the tablet. The message was quoted:

  Existence of Self. It was followed by a sequence of co-ordinates.

  “Now what do you suppose that means?” said Serafin. She smiled. “Those co-ordinates, by the way, are deep in interstellar space, near the outer edge of the galactic disc. Our best telescopes have scanned the region, but they can't see anything. So the SIS is sending me to investigate.”

  “I see,” said Lanik. “Good luck. We need all the leads we can get.” He paused for a moment, thinking, and caught Serafin's gaze. “And you're telling me because … if something goes wrong, it would be better if the Dauntless knew where this location was.” He noted down the co-ordinates and handed the tablet back.

  “Exactly,” said Serafin. “If some catastrophe does befall us – fingers crossed that it won't – I don't want to have to wait for the SIS dithering about what information it could release. You and Hanson, you act quickly, and you're effective. You should know these co-ordinates.” She contracted the tablet and put it back in her pocket. “I had a hell of a time convincing the Circus to invite you here, but both you and I have a fair bit of political clout by now.”

  Lanik nodded. “And I presume you'll just be on a reconnaissance mission?”

  “Yes,” said Serafin. “It'll be just me and the Black Cat. For the moment, we just want to see what's hiding there, if anything. The mission should take about four days.”

  “Right. So we hold off until then. And if you're not back after four days, we're free to investigate.”

  “That's the idea,” said Serafin. “Assuming you haven't got your hands full with something else by that point.”

/>   “I'll see what I can do,” said Lanik.

  “Thank you,” said Serafin. She smiled. “You'd make a good operative commander. I mean that. You're methodical, but you can think on your feet. You respect the rules, but know when to break them. If you're not too attached to the Dauntless when all this is over, you should apply to join.”

  Lanik found himself smiling too. For him, it was a rare reaction. “I might just do that,” he said. He thought for a moment. “But first, perhaps there's something else you can do for us. We're looking for a Varanid named Arka.”

  “Arka?”

  Lanik took out his own tablet, extended it, and brought up the relevant information. “We asked the Admiralty, but they can't get anywhere with it beyond a couple of ship registry numbers,” he said, handing the tablet to Serafin.

  She studied the tablet for a moment, her gaze swiftly skimming the information. “Two possible registry numbers,” she said out loud. “And you can't determine which you want?”

  “Or where they are now.”

  Serafin nodded. “I think I might be able to help with that,” she said. “Wait here.” She stood, holding Lanik's tablet, and strode out of the room.

  Chapter 7: Aliens in London Bars

  “It's smaller that I expected,” said Srak, gazing up at the white dome.

  “You say that about everything human,” said Yilva.

  They stood together on the smart matter platform of Queen Anne II Bridge, looking up at St. Paul's Cathedral. Monorails skated past above.

  Srak grunted. “Well, it's true. Perhaps I should expect less.”

  The humans here made little effort to avoid Srak's bulk, jostling him from all sides. Yilva had taken to sitting on his back. He shrugged, nearly dislodging her, and put all six limbs on the ground to continue forwards.

  The bar he'd found, the Spread Eagle, had doors big enough to accommodate a Varanid, but no sufficiently big chairs. It was mostly empty, and there were no other aliens. Srak ordered a five-pint glass of rakta – a hissing dark blue liquid that would be immediately and bloodily fatal for any other species.

  Yilva leaned over and grinned toothily at the bartender, tail dancing eagerly. She spoke in fast, loud English. “Hello proprietor! I would please like a very a much a pint of Corsuc! Thank you very much!” Then: “Would you please like to tell me the meaning of that ceremonial symbol at the back!”

  Srak sighed and sought out a table.

  Yilva came bouncing back a few minutes later, spilling some of her drink on her gown.

  “It is called a coat of arms!” she informed Srak. Then she frowned. “It does not look very much like a coat. Or arms.” She turned to Srak and turned back to Isk: “How is my English?”

  Srak grinned at her. “Good,” he said. “You're learning faster than I did. I only improved because Agatha laughed at me so much. But you say it's, not it is. They use contractions wherever they can.”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” said Yilva. And in English, she said, “It's. It's. It's hard to remember.” She grinned, immensely proud of her success. Then the bar caught her attention again and she frowned. “Coat of arms. It does not make sense. Maybe it is meant to be arm of coats? But it still does not look like a coat. Or coats.”

  “Humans have strange names for things,” said Srak. He picked up a drinks menu, scanned through it, and pointed out one in particular. “How would you order that in English?”

  Yilva, eager to play the came, began, “I would very much like a … a Sex on the Beach.” She looked at Srak, eyes wide. “Oh, my.”

  Chapter 8: Her Favourite Colour Is Green

  The hospital staff dithered. On the one hand, Agatha wasn't supposed to be in there. On the other hand, there was no risk of infection, and they didn't want to separate Emily from her new friend when she seemed to be enjoying it so much.

  “Let her be,” Hanson said. “She'll come out in her own time.”

  The staff took his advice.

  He watched through the screen: Emily seemed to be in the process of insisting Agatha draw something.

  In the end, her own time ended up being about fifteen minutes. Agatha stood, wiped her hands on her jeans, and waved goodbye to Emily. She came sauntering out into a corridor, smiling to herself.

  “You're just full of surprises, aren't you?” said Moore.

  Admiral Chang stood silently, arms crossed. It was evident he, being from a strong military background, didn't approve of Agatha. But he respected Hanson enough to accept her.

  “Well done,” Hanson said. “That was a rash move. But it was my kind of rash move. Did you learn anything?”

  Agatha leant against the wall and considered. “Her favourite colour is green,” she said. “Her favourite animals are hyenas. She used to like dogs more, but she thinks hyenas get a bad reputation they don't deserve. Actually, her next trip is to see the hyena reserve in Africa. Oh, and she thinks I smell funny.”

  “You could stand to shower more often,” Hanson said mildly.

  “I could,” said Agatha, in a tone that said she had absolutely no intention of doing so.

  “Anyway, anything we can actually use?”

  “She's a kid,” said Agatha. “She doesn't have any strategic information. I asked her about Millicent. She said she loves her aunt very much and hopes she comes back soon. That's it really.”

  Admiral Chang sighed. “Well, so much for that lead,” he said.

  “We shall simply have to keep on trying,” Vyren said, floating awkwardly in his bubble of water.

  They headed back to the ship. At the Underground station, Chang left to attend to other duties.

  On the train, Vyren's bubble of water took up most the width of the carriage. Agatha sat beside Hanson.

  Recalling her interaction with Emily, he asked, “Do you have any family here?”

  Agatha scratched her head for a moment, then shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “Got a rich uncle who once told me my dad was a waste of oxygen and that I'd never amount to anything. I lived with him for a while when I was young, in a castle-arcology in the Scottish Highlands. The landscape was pretty cool, and I got firearms training, but … ” The thought seemed to throw her. She stared off into space for a few moment, pouting, then grinned suddenly. “Hey, if we actually save the galaxy, wanna go visit him? I could wear my proper uniform and everything.”

  Hanson laughed. “Alright,” he said.

  Looking over, he noticed Vyren's bright crystalline blue eyes looking towards them. He didn't know much about Tethyan social structures, but it still seemed a good idea to try and integrate the new team-member. “What about you?” he asked Vyren. “Any family?”

  “Quite possibly!” said Vyren. “But we are grown in communal hatcheries. I am close friends with my clanmothers and clanfathers – those who watch over the hatchery – but I don't know who my actual parents are.”

  “Good system, that,” said Agatha.

  “Perhaps,” said Vyren. “I have read about the depth and complexity of emotion humans have for the familial bonds. The feeling is quite alien to me. I see that such relations can lead to a lot of pain when they don't work as expected, but … sometimes I also wonder if I have missed something by not experiencing it.”

  Agatha stared at him for a few seconds, then turned away and ran her hand through her hair. “Yeah. Maybe,” she said. “I think I'm happy enough where I am.”

  Back aboard the Dauntless, Hanson showed Vyren to the pool. Vyren's bubble of water descended slowly into the pool's surface, merging with it until it was gone completely. Now free to swim, Vyren jetted back and forth. “Thank you, Captain,” he said. “This will do nicely.”

  With the new crew member settled in, Hanson headed back into the ship. He met Srak and Yilva coming in through the docking tube. Yilva was switching between Isk and English at random, giggling a lot. She seemed a little unsteady in her movements. When she saw Hanson she straightened up and attempted a sort of salute.

  “I hope you didn'
t get two carried away with … sightseeing,” said Hanson.

  “Oh, er, wow. No!” said Yilva in Isk. Then in English: “We are fine, Captain.”

  Srak snorted. “Don't worry about me, Hanson,” he said. “I could drink that Tethyan's whole pool filled with booze and still be sober enough to shoot a … a thing from 500 yards away.”

  “Right,” said Hanson.

  “But Yilva would like to know,” said Srak. “If you have any cocktails aboard.”

  Yilva burst into giggles.

  Hanson watched them both for a moment. “Just make sure you're sober by the time we leave,” he said. And, as he watched them go, “And, Srak? Try not to damage the ship.”

  When they'd gone, he headed back along the corridors.

  In his ready-room, he found Agatha sitting on the table, stony-faced.

  He didn't like her expression one bit. “What is it?” he asked.

  “We need a lead against IL,” said Agatha casually. “You know what I saw when I went with you to the hospital today?” She slid off the table and held Hanson's gaze. “Leverage.”

  Hanson was silent for a moment. “I'm afraid I don't know what you're getting at,” he said.

  “It's something you learn quickly with a past like mine,” Agatha said. “People care about each other, and that's something you can use. Millicent Dawes works for IL. Pretty high up, isn't she? And she cares about her niece. We have her niece. If we wanted to, I dunno, to let slip a threat or two …” She held up a tablet. “I downloaded all the messages from Millicent and Emily, so we have a good idea of what to go for.”

  Hanson spoke firmly without shouting. “No. I'm not going to bring an ill child into this.”

  “Why not, huh? The enemy has already shown what they're willing to do! Remember those genetically modified soldiers and, oh yeah, the attempt to conquer the galaxy?”

  “I know what's at stake here,” Hanson said. “And I know what IL is capable of. That's why they're the bad guys and we're not. I'm not going to betray the ideals to Alliance was founded on. No, Agatha. We will find another way.”